By John Klima
October 25, 2008
“The big thing really is that I started throwing the change-up a lot more,” Jamie Moyer explained. “If you can be consistent with the change-up and keep it around the plate, it makes any pitcher look a lot more effective.”
This is the story of a man and his change-up, but what Moyer said here wasn’t spoken after his time-altering outing in rain-swollen Philadelphia Saturday night in Game 3 of the World Series against the Tamps Bay Rays. No, these were Moyer’s words when he was 22 years old in September 1984 quoted in his hometown newspaper, The Daily Intelligencer, a few weeks after the end of his first minor league season.
When you watch a pitcher like Moyer, a certain characteristic evolves. As a left-hander, he must not have always thrown his fastball in the low 80s, right? How can you get to the big leagues if you don’t light up a radar gun?
Think again.
“I had been throwing it in college for three years, but not nearly as much as I do now,” Moyer said 24 years ago, shortly after he went 9-3 with a 1.89 ERA at Geneva, short-season A-Ball in the New York-Penn League. “I never realized how effective it could be.”
It will be hard to replace the indelible image of Moyer walking onto the field from the bullpen in a steady shower. His head was lowered like a man who had been through much to reach his first World Series start in his 22-year major league career. His previous playoff outings this fall were washed away with 6 1/3 solid innings in which he scattered five hits, three runs and struck out five in a game in which he deserved to be the winning pitcher. He let his disastrous playoff starts roll off his back like rain off the bill of his cap.
Facing lineups full of players who weren’t born when Moyer won his first game – surprise, surprise – against the Phillies and Steve Carlton in Chicago – is nothing new for Moyer. He’s baseball’s favorite drinking game: “Jamie Moyer is soooooooo old….How old is he!”
Here’s the point. Moyer did not devolve from a hard-throwing version of his former self. This is his former self.
The Intellinger, pointed out that “Many scouts ignored his overpowering success in high school and Legion ball, under whelmed by the velocity of his pitches.”
Not bad scouting for a small town paper.
It is also probably the last time Moyer was called overpowering, but hey, when Carlos Peña can’t make up his mind if a sinking change-up is worth swinging at, you’re doing something right.
The young Moyer realized early that he had found his calling.
“I saw only one scout use a radar gun this summer,” Moyer said after his first pro season. “They’re not looking at speed anymore because you’re there now.”
It’s great to be young and oblivious.
Moyer is also very fortunate he wasn’t starting out in the era where more scouts use the radar gun as a replacement for critical thought.
Moyer sounded like, well, a kid in the rest of that interview. He was thrilled to be shedding the label of an East Coast small college player and to be invited to Instructional League that fall.
What he did this Fall night was instructional itself – throwing 82 mile per hour fastballs on the inside corner, taking 10 miles off and finding sink on his change-up and running his two-seam fastball, coaxing poor swings.
Moyer can be hit by nature, but he is also deceiving. And, by the way his body responds at 45, holding runners and playing defense, nature has been as kind to him as he has been to it.
Rays manager Joe Maddon watched Moyer work with a wide smile. He’s seen Moyer countless times from the days when Moyer used to buckle the Los Angeles Angels of Apprehension. Maddon, too, is from Pennsylvania, and if you got him alone, he’d probably tell you they are kindred spirits.
“That’s a great story. It's inspiring to everyone,” Peña said. “What an example of professionalism, tenacity and hard work.”
Peña is probably mirroring what Maddon has told his impressionable team.
The modest Moyer: “I think it exceeded every expectation, every thought, every dream that I had.”
In a young man’s game where power arms are prized and lesser-known finesse pitchers are misunderstood and seek people to believe in them, Moyer is that same pitcher from nowhere land, where radar guns and age don’t matter. Only outs matter.
“The age thing, it’s not an issue, but it's been around for a while with me and I think I’m kind of over it, because I’ve been around a lot of younger players,” he said.
I’m certain he hasn’t played the ‘How old is Jamie Moyer?’ drinking game with them.
“Some kids haven't even been born yet when I was in the Major Leagues,” he said. “It’s kind of weird to think about it, but back a few years ago when I played in Texas I had two teammates, Nolan Ryan and Charlie Hough that were in their 40s, and I really looked up to them and respected who they were and what they did in their careers.”
“A few years ago” is a nice choice of words. Moyer pitched with Ryan and Hough in 1989 and 1990. Back then I would have had to write this in a newspaper.
“And now I've kind of come full circle with it,” Moyer said.
How old is Jamie Moyer? The only thing that comes full circle is his circle change.
John@Klimaink.com
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